Wolves
by Time-Pirate
Summary: In a world where man and wolf are natural enemies, what room is there for someone who belongs to neither? Werewolves are merely a creature of myth spread to scare children, what possibility could there be that they are real, right? Werewolf AU
1. Chapter 1

There was a whistling in his ears and a pounding in his chest as Arthur Kirkland forgot just how long he had been running for. His legs throbbed with the push to carry on, to not fall out from under him, to not leave him to the snarling jaws of death that were nipping at his ankles as he blindly fought tree branches out of his way.

The wolves were crowned guardians of the forest, but also as natural enemies of man. Both man and wolf fighting for the taste of each other's blood throughout history. As man gained wisdom to build elaborate traps, wolves gained size and power. Man also underestimated the knowledge of the wolves, how cunning they really could be.

It was that cunning that had lead Arthur to the unfortunate situation he found himself in. In his pride to prove himself to the village, he ended up lured into the darkness of the woods, and completely turned around. Unable to really figure out which way was home, he just did everything in his power to avoid capture, to avoid the rotten breath of death that was threatening his life.

All it took was one miscalculated step for Arthur to lose all control and end up barreling face first into the dirt. Grass and mud blurred his vision and filled his nose, as his ankle throbbed with pain and the feel of his palms slicing open against stone. Aware that the scent of his blood and his own mistakes would spur on the wolf's bloodlust, Arthur rolled, scrambling to try and get back to his feet. He felt a weight press on his back, too large and too heavy to fight against as it pressed his face back against the ground.

Arthur released a snarl as he used the remaining strength in his arms to fight against the unseen weight, but was met by the clawed grip of something that seemed neither man or wolf on his shoulders, and the curious breath of a snout against his ear. Arthur stilled, fear filling his lungs as the creature sniffed at his hair and neck, any little movement he made met by a low, threatening snarl. There had been rumours in the village, that wolves had developed the ability to transform into men, and some becoming a horrible hybrid of the two. Arthur must have been cursed from birth to end up in a situation like this.

He squeezed his eyes closed, waiting to feel those jaws close around his neck, but felt no pressure, no pain of his jugular tearing, no blackness of death. After a moment, the pressure on his shoulders slowly released, and the creature climbed off of him. Confused, Arthur slowly pushed himself up on his arms, blinking dirt from his eyes as he threw a cautious look over his shoulder.

Standing on its hind legs, stood a beast that was taken from drawings of frightened townsfolk, straight from the tales of old and the whispered of the village. A wolf-man creature, covered head to toe in golden-white fur, blue eyes that almost glowed in the moonlight staring down at him with a gaze that spoke so human it sent a shiver of doubt through Arthur. He found himself caught, staring at the creature who watched him, the longer he fell into that gaze, the less fearful he felt.

The creature seemed to make a move to reach out to him, but a shout caught both of their attentions. In the distance, firelight was travelling towards them and the voices of the village men caught Arthur's ear. In a split second, the creature took to all fours. It cast Arthur one last look, as if to say that they would meet again, before taking off into the darkness of the wood, vanishing in to the night.

Arthur lay there, in the cold damp grass, and his fellow village people gathered around him, voices of concern and congratulation of having kept his life. But Arthur's thoughts were elsewhere, eyes flickering to the abyss of the wood.

He met a wolf. And the wolf had spared his life.


	2. Chapter 2

AN: I apologise for this one being short. It was written late at night and in a bit of a rush.

* * *

Arthur couldn't quite recall how many times the village elders had asked him to repeat his story of what had happened in the belly of the wood, but he was getting to the point where he wished his tongue would tire and fall out of his mouth. The elders were concerned over the manlike vision that the wolf had taken, but also baffled over the fact it had seemingly shown mercy to the young man. It took a night of long discussions before Arthur was congratulated on being alive and sent on his way.

He found little comfort in his own bed. As safe and secure he felt, his thoughts were scattered. Something about that wolf had spoken to him and just came across as too strange, the wolf's gaze had been too human for even Arthur to ignore. Still, he found himself milling in the village market the next day, gazing at apples while his thoughts were still stumbling through the wood. Many men had their lives taken from them by the wolves, so why had he been any different? Why had _his_ life been spared?

Panicked voices and shouting gained his attention, peering curiously towards the gathering crowd. He couldn't help the swell of interest bubbling in his stomach as he made his way through the mob of people to investigate the commotion.

Dangling between two of the village's strongest hung a young man, half naked and clutching the two for dear life. Arthur stretched as best he could to see through the crowd, spotting a mop of honey blonde hair that was stained from a mixture of blood and mud. Horrified mumbling broke out in the crowd as they drew near and it became obvious just how wounded the young man was.

It was quickly apparent that it had been the work of the wolves, not a soul in the village could mistake those trademark pattern of claws that littered the space of sun kissed skin. The young man's arm looked almost mangled, his shoulders and back laced with deep oozing wounds. But it was the long claw marks that stretched across the man's face that stood out the most to the onlookers.

There were shouts for Arthur's mother, the village doctor, to come and see to the stranger. Although the man was not a member of their community, an enemy of the wolves was a friend of theirs, and thus treated with respect and dignity. Arthur pushed his way through the crowd a little, wishing to make some use of himself rather than remaining 'the boy who lived' as it were. He could have sworn he saw the young man's nose twitch as he got closer. And as those eyes lifted to connect with his, Arthur stopped dead in his tracks as it was as if the air had been punched out of him.

A young man with the eyes of a wolf. A young man with those blue moon eyes. A young man giving him a very slight smile across a crowd as if they were old friends.

Arthur had never felt more sick in his life.


	3. Chapter 3

Arthur remained transfixed on those staring eyes as time seemed to speed up around them both, and they were soon shuffled in to Arthur's home, where his mother had changed one of the rooms in to a working room for her patients. As the young man was guided to lie on his front on a table, and his intense gaze on Arthur was finally broken, Arthur finally realised that his own feet had guided him after his mother and the man. He finally tuned in to the conversation around him.

"What's your name, young man?" Arthur's mother asked in a tender tone as she dipped a cloth in fresh warm water. She had wrapped an apron around her waist and had tied her long blonde hair in to a tight bun to keep it from her face. She was a small woman, petite in every sense of the word, but carried herself with such an air of authority that it frightened the bravest of men.

The man hissed as the cloth touched the wounds on his back, his whole body heaving for a moment before settling again. Although his stare on Arthur spoke volumes of strength and determination, now that spell was broken Arthur was finally seeing the sweat, blood, and cringe of pain stained on the young man's brow.

"A-Alfred... It's Alfred..." He panted through pained breaths, giving Arthur's mother a pained expression.

"I'm Charlotte." She gave him a warm smile as she gentle cleaned the gaping wounds on his back. "Now, Alfred, I just need you to relax. You've been through a traumatizing experience, and I need you to stay very calm. You're safe now."

Arthur stood in the doorway, watching as this man - Alfred - visibly calmed at his mother's words. He felt his eyes narrow in suspicion, though, as he watched Alfred carefully. If this man was indeed the wolf from the wood, then the whole village could possibly be in danger. On the other hand, he also looked like he had been mauled by a wolf himself. It just didn't make sense to him at all.

"Arthur?" The voice calling to him broke his line of concentration, as he blinked his frown out of his brow towards his mother. "Can you fetch us some more clean water, please? And the sewing kit?"

Arthur gave a slow nod to Charlotte at her request, picking up the now empty bucket. He felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise as he became aware that a strange pair of eyes were focused on him again. Refusing to meet the gaze, Arthur scurried from the room, his knuckles turning white from their grip on the bucket handle. Even though he could tell that Alfred wasn't going to be moving any time soon, the other's intense stare intimidated Arthur in a way that shook him in his bones.

The rest of the afternoon was spent with Charlotte cleaning and stitching Alfred's back wounds, before wrapping them in clean bandages, and Arthur standing in the doorway and keeping a close eye on everything. Eventually Alfred was eased to sit up, so Charlotte could properly inspect the wounds on his face. She frown a little as she gently cleaned and poked at his wounds, before breathing a sigh of relief.

"You're extremely lucky, Alfred. The wounds on your face aren't very deep, and it's narrowly avoided your eyes." She gave him a smile as she carefully applied bandages to Alfred's face. "The ones on your back, however, are a little more serious. You've managed to avoid any serious damage, but it's extremely lucky the men found you when they did, you could have bled to death."

Alfred gave Charlotte a small, tired smile at that information, letting the woman do as she wished, before his gaze flickered back over to Arthur stood in the doorway. Arthur visibly tensed as their eyes met again, looking away quickly.

"So Alfred, where are you from?" Charlotte asked, moving to wash up her equipment.

"The other side of the wood." Alfred responded, turning his focus back to Charlotte. "I was hunting rabbits when I was attacked."

Charlotte nodded in understanding, finishing up her work of wrapping bandages around his face. "Well, I want to keep you here for a few days at least, make sure you heal fine and regain your strength. If that okay with you?"

Alfred nodded softly, gingerly touching the bandages and cringing at the pain. Charlotte gave him a flat look at response to that and shook her head fondly. "Arthur? Can you prepare the spare bed for Alfred?"

Arthur blinked in alarm at that, staring at his mother. "He's going to stay _here_?"

"Yes." Charlotte narrowed her eyes slightly at him. "Is that going to be a problem?"

Arthur chewed his lip in silence for a long moment, his gaze flickering between the pointed stare of his mother, and the intense gaze of the stranger, before turning and leaving to do as he was told. As he was putting fresh sheets on the guest bed, he felt an entire internal battle fighting inside. He couldn't just let this... this _monster_ lurk under his own roof, posing a threat to not just him, but his mother as well.

So he waited. He waited until Charlotte had put the man to bed. He waited for his mother to fall asleep. He waited for the moon to be high in the sky before he crept out of his own bed, grabbing the largest kitchen knife he could find, and stood over the sleeping stranger.

The silence of the night wrapped around Arthur, only sounds of his and Alfred's breathing reached him, as he gripped the knife handle in both hands to try and cease the trembling. He inched as close to the bedside as he dared, staring down at the younger man. Alfred was sleeping on his side, to avoid putting any pressure on his back or face, his golden hair shimmering in the night with an almost peaceful expression. Arthur found himself almost admiring the other, taking in the man's deep cheekbones and strong jaw, all the way to his muscular and toned arms.

Arthur mentally slapped himself for getting lost in Alfred's image, closing his eyes and reaffirming his mission. He wasn't here to faun over this man, he was here to kill him, to prove himself to his village, to save everyone by getting rid of the threat, not go gooey-eyed over how handsome he may be.

Tightening his hold on the knife, Arthur took in a deep breath to calm himself before fixing himself on his goal. He raised the blade above his head, getting ready to deliver one - hopefully fatal - stab to the heart.

What he didn't expect, though, was as he brought the blade down, Alfred's eyes snapped open. It all happened too fast for Arthur, but the next thing he knew, Alfred had a firm grip on his wrist and had tackled him to the ground, one claw-like hand slapped over Arthur's mouth to silence any noise. The previously handsome face of the stranger suddenly became twisted and animalistic behind the bandages, a jaw of fangs flashing in the moonlight as Alfred landed on top of Arthur, keeping him effectively pinned to the ground. The man's eyes caught the light, glowing and wolf-like as he snarled at the frightened man underneath him.

There was a long pause as Arthur felt the familiarity of those eyes from the previous night, and the swell of panic that raised in his chest as his green eyes stared up at the wolf man, wide and frightened. Alfred's impossible strength held him down, silenced him, and in total made Arthur regret every decision he had made in his life that had led to this.

After a moment, Alfred's face eased back in to the human one that Arthur had been admiring, except twisted in pain. His grip on Arthur's mouth loosed as he cringed at the pain that was surging through him. Arthur took his chance, bringing a knee sharply upwards to connect with the other's gut and winding the man. Ripping himself free, Arthur flipped over and scrambled on his hands and knees for the door. Alfred managed to recover, though, grabbing hold of one of Arthur's ankles and pulling the other back.

"_Please_!" Alfred called out suddenly, grasping Arthur's attention and causing him to hesitate. "Please... Stop. Stop, I'm not going to hurt you..."

Arthur stared down at the other man, who had returned to the innocent human image he had carried earlier that day, but hunched and panting in pain. Arthur realised that in the man's hurry to protect himself, he must have torn some of his stitches and reopened his wounds. Arthur furrowed his brow in determination, though. Alfred had proved that he was a wolf, no matter what skin he wore on the outside, and thus he was Arthur's enemy and needed to be disposed of.

Arthur turned to look at the other, raising the knife as threateningly as he could manage, although there was a tremble in his hand. Alfred's icy gaze fixed on him, and despite the pain he was in, they still held their hungry wolf-like gaze as he stared Arthur down.

"G-Give me one good reason why I should trust you!" Arthur hissed, kicking his ankle free from Alfred's grip.

"Because..." Alfred sat back, still panting through the pain. "If I wanted you dead... I would have killed you yesterday."

Arthur blinked at that, the knife lowering slightly as he realised that Alfred was right. It seemed to be true that this man was the wolf that pinned him down the previous night, but while Alfred had the perfect chance to rip Arthur's throat out, he had decided not to. Still, wolves were cunning, they were clever creatures.

"You and I both know that means nothing." Arthur narrowed his eyes at the other, scowling darkly.

"You owe me your life." Alfred pointed out, eyebrows raised in an expression that told Arthur just how tired he was. "Do you really think I could hurt you in the state I'm in? Seriously dude, stopping you from killing me took all I had..."

As Alfred rubbed his jaw, careful to avoid any wounded areas, Arthur reconsidered his choices. What the man had said was true. Alfred was in pretty bad shape, the chances on him getting out of bed and hurting either Arthur or his mother without raising alarm in the house was unlikely. Slowly, he lowered the knife, his thick brows knotted together as he was conflicted with the situation he was in.

"Fine." He finally sighed in defeat, slowly raising to stand. He made sure to stay as close to the exit as he could, not trusting the other man to not attack him again. "Consider us even. But you have to leave as soon as you're healed, or I will personally skin you."

Alfred gave a weak laugh at that, pulling himself back to sit on the bed. He gave Arthur an amused look which told the older man that he didn't quite believe his threat, but would humour him regardless. "Deal. You have my word that I'll leave as soon as I have the strength to."

Arthur watched the other carefully at that, mulling over whether or not to believe him. It was written all over Alfred's body language that he was weakened and vulnerable, no matter how hard he tried to hide that. Arthur felt a pang that may have been pity for the stranger if he hadn't known that the man was secretly everyone's number one enemy.

"Can I go back to sleep now, or are you going to stare at me all night?" Alfred asked, his voice laced with amusement.

Arthur stiffened at that, heat rushing to his face as he tore his gaze away from those shining eyes and fumbling with the door. In his embarrassment, he dropped the knife and had to scramble to collect it again, accidentally flashing the other man an impressive view of his rear. He collected himself one he had the door open, glancing back at the other.

"If you even think of hurting my mum, I will be the end of you." Arthur growled, straightening his shoulders.

"Right, right. I'll remember that." Alfred smiled at him again, causing Arthur's face to flush a little.

Arthur left swiftly, clicking the door closed and leaning his back against the hard wood that separated him from the wolf that had spared his life. He was knowingly harboring an enemy under his roof, putting his life, his mother's life, and the lives of everyone in the village in danger.

_Just what on earth was he thinking?_


	4. Chapter 4

Despite his hopes, sunrise provided little comfort for Arthur. A new day brought new hope, and especially in the interest of the new member to the village, Alfred. Local children flocked to their door in hopes of catching a glimpse of him before Charlotte had the chance to shoo them away. Arthur decided to take it upon himself to distract himself from the constant threat of the wolf under their roof by indulging in one of his favourite calming hobbies, gardening.

Kneeling in a flowerbed, straw hat keeping the sun from burning the skin on his face, and up to his elbows in dirt certainly served to sooth Arthur's nerves. He pulled at weeds, clearing the flowerbed for the coming winter, knowing it was going to be a cold one from the distinct nip in the air. He leaned back on his feet for a moment, wiping at his brow and giving a content sigh when a voice broke his palace of peace.

"This is a lovely garden. You look after it yourself?" The distinct drawl of the wolf sent a shiver down Arthur's spine as well as a twitch of irritation in his face.

"That is none of your business." Arthur snipped back, not even turning to face Alfred. He could practically hear a pout in the other's voice regardless.

"Aw, I'm just trying to get to know you better, Artie~" The nickname suddenly snapped something inside Arthur, causing him to spin round wildly and snarl at the other man.

"_Don't you ever call me that_."

"But Charlotte calls you that." Alfred grinned, not at all phased. Arthur had yet not settled on whether or not that grin was childish or predatory, full of teeth and laughter. "'Artie this, Artie that~.' She really loves talking about you."

"And that's exactly why _you _can't-" Arthur hiss froze in his throat as he took in the clothes that the other was wearing. Obviously, from the attack the night before, Alfred's clothing had been torn to shreds. But the clothing he wore now were fresh, clean. "... You can't wear those."

Alfred blinked for a moment before looking down at the shirt he was wearing, casually picking a lose thread from it. "Charlotte gave it to me. It's a bit large but this shade of blue suits me, don't you think?"

Arthur could feel the boil in his blood rise at the wolf's careless tone. "Those are my fathers and you have no right-"

"No right to wear clothes gifted to me?" Alfred challenged, his icy gaze locking with Arthur's until the smaller man had to tear his gave away. "What happened to him anyway?"

"_It's none of your business_." Arthur refused to cover the snap in his tone, anger bubbling under his skin. "Why don't you go back to my mother and discuss me some more if you enjoy it so much?"

"Because it's more interesting gaining information from its source." Alfred's voice was suddenly too close to Arthur's ear for comfort, feeling the other man's breath against the shell of his ear and down his neck.

Panicking, Arthur practically threw himself away from Alfred, who had been leaning over him, and ended up sprawled in the flowerbed with one hand pressed to his ear and his chest heaving as he struggled for breath. Memories of the night in the woods came flooding back, filling him with fear at the thought that Alfred could rip his throat out at a moments notice.

Alfred stared at him, filled with curiosity, because erupting into a fit of laughter. The wolf's joy in his fear created the anger in Arthur's chest to overflow, cheeks flushing red in embarrassment at his reaction. In his rage, Arthur got to his feet as gracefully as he could before he took a swing for the taller man. Alfred dodged the surprise attack easily, one hand grabbing hold of Arthur's fist and twisting his arm behind his back. Feeling the heat of Alfred's chest pressed against his back, Arthur felt his rage dissipate to his initial fear for the taller blonde, Arthur's chest heaving as he tried to control his breathing.

"I may be weak but I'm not stupid, _Artie_." Alfred growled in his ear, keeping a firm grip on him. "It's rude to attack your guest, and I will be your guest for some time to come. You are just going to have to suck it up and get used to having me around."

As soon as he released him, Arthur took a good number of steps away from Alfred, turning and trying to resist the urge to rub his sore wrist. Even if Alfred was weakened, he still possessed a ridiculous amount of inhuman strength.

"So we might as well be friends, okay?" Alfred grinned at him, all teeth again. As much warmth as he put in to his voice, Arthur refused to feel any warmth from the other's smile. Alfred offered a hand to him, obviously expecting Arthur to cooperate with him.

Arthur huffed, ignoring the hand and shouldering his way past the wolf. He gave Alfred the coldest look he could muster, swallowing the fear in his stomach. "_We will never be friends_."

Arthur stalked back in to the house, leaving Alfred stood speechless in the garden. He refused to glance back at the other, refuse to show that he was scared or that he doubted himself. He stalked past his mother, who threw him a questioning look, and made his way upstairs to his room. Once the door was closed, he let his legs give out from under him, sliding to the floor. He took gasping breaths, clutching at his chest with trembling hands. He wasn't sure if he could do this, face having the wolf living under his roof. He could not even confront him without giving in to his rage or the swallowing feeling of panic rising from his bowels.

After a while, he heard voices and laughter coming from outside. Gathering strength, he rose back to his feet and gradually made his way to the window. He had a beautiful view of the garden, where Alfred and Charlotte were talking and laughing together, sounding care free and merry. Arthur felt torn on what to do with himself. There was threat under his roof, but he was powerless to do anything against it. Alfred had so far proven that while he meant no harm, he had the potential to carry it out. Biting on his fingernails, Arthur frowned at the two from his window, worrying over whether or not Alfred had different motives.

That was when Alfred's gaze connected with his, looking up at Arthur's window. When their eyes were locked, Alfred flashed Arthur a prize-winning smile. Feeling his breath catch in his throat a little, he froze up, staring down at the baby blues that spoke out to him. Arthur forced himself away from the window, away from the prying eyes, away from the laughter, away from the source of confusion and fear. And away from whatever was causing his heart to beat so painfully in his chest.


End file.
